Shortly after arriving in Siem Reap, my right shoulder started hurting. The pain intensified as the day went on, then got worse overnight. I decided to get a massage at the hotel. Little did I know, it would be a massage like no other.
I don’t usually get massages when traveling, (except for a memorable massage in Bangkok), but my shoulder was really hurting. And our hotel probably had top-notch masseuses who know what they’re doing. I made an appointment for a massage that morning
Massage is taken much more seriously in the East than in the West. Massage schools abound. People get degrees in massage. They tie massage in with traditional Eastern medicine. It’s a big deal.
OK. Here We Go…
At the hotel, massages are given in a cottage-like building tucked away in a corner of the hotel grounds. I walked up the stone path leading to the door, and went inside. Dim lighting, the sound of trickling water in a fountain, faint smell of something nice – all soothing to the senses. Nice.
The receptionist greeted me warmly, (of course she did – we’re in Cambodia), and showed me to a massage room. She told me to please take off all my clothes and lie face-down, under the sheet on the massage table. My masseuse would be in shortly.
I remembered why I don’t get massages when we travel. I’m not super comfortable taking off my clothes in front of a stranger. I know. It’s not like they don’t see naked bodies eight hours a day, five days a week. But logic has nothing to do with it, eh?
The massage table was comfortable. I stretched out on my stomach, arms out to the side, my face looking down through a hole in the table. My masseuse came in and said, “Hello. My name is Chenda.” We made some small talk. Her English was limited, but she was easy enough to communicate with.
So Far, So Good
She asked me what I needed and I told her about my shoulder – which motions hurt, which were OK, what the pains were like. Then she asked me a few questions and got started.
She warmed up by giving me a quick body massage. It was great. Then she said, “Now I start work on shoulder.” OK, I thought. This is good. I’m glad I signed up for this massage.
She grabbed my arm and pulled it hard. Whoa. Then she tried to move my arm around in ways that I had told her it wouldn’t go. Maybe she hadn’t understood my English. Maybe she had a short memory. I reminded her, to no avail.
She’d pull my arm into one uncomfortable position after another, then dig into my shoulder muscles. She had to be using an elbow, drilling down as deep as she could. It hurt like crazy. I let out out a few yelps. Apparently she had gone deaf. My pleas went unanswered.
She’d pull my arm every which way – probably into some positions it’s never been in, ever. It hurt like crazy. I tried to man up, but it was like torture. The thought crossed my mind… I’d have made a lousy spy. If I got caught and put under the bright lights, I’d be chattering like a magpie.
You Cry Now…
I was afraid she’d make my shoulder worse, maybe do some real damage. She kept at it. I resisted, but I was in no position to negotiate. I tried anyway. She hadn’t said anything for a while, but after one of my outbursts, she finally said, “You cry now. In two days, feel better.”
When I got out of there I was in a daze. I hoped my shoulder wasn’t permanently damaged. I didn’t know what to think. And the pain in my shoulder was worse than ever.
That was my “massage like no other.” And as you may have already guessed, two days later, my shoulder “feel better.” Good as new, in fact. It was if she had performed a miracle. Wow.
To be continued…
Note: The crying baby photo is thanks to: istockphoto/LSOphoto
